Duplicity
by SweetP
Summary: An Alias/Pride and Prejudice Crossover
1. Default Chapter

Title: Duplicity  
  
Summary: An Alias crossover with Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, plenty of angst!  
  
DISCLAIMER: As much as I would like to I don't own any of these glorious songs or characters!  
  
This is a little fan fic I've been writing over the past while. I'm sure some of you have read Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice? Well it's my fave story of all-time and I thought it would make an excellent crossover story with Alias. I think Lizzy and Darcy have to go through as much and learn an awful a lot about each other before they can be a couple – the same with Syd and Vaughn. Although my story is much more true to the plot of Alias than of P&P, more inspired by its characters. It's amazing how well some of Austen's characters fit in with the Alias gang. I'm not sure where the plot is going to go but I have started in a very similar vein to the first Alias episode. Enjoy!  
  
Love needs its martyrs  
  
Needs its sacrifices  
  
They live for your beauty  
  
And pay for their vices  
  
Love will be the death of  
  
My lonely soul brothers  
  
But their spirit shall live on in  
  
The hearts of all lovers  
  
Your holding court  
  
With your lips and your smile  
  
Your body's a halo  
  
Their minds are on trial  
  
Sure as adam is eve  
  
Sure as jonah turned whaler  
  
They're crooked love thieves  
  
And you are their jailor  
  
The Love Thieves – Depeche Mode, 1997  
  
Somewhere in the Caribbean – September 2004  
  
It was scorching summer night – one where the slight, purring breeze that came from the depths of the ocean only rustled the trees slightly from their heat-induced slumber. The kind of evening where to think was to sweat, and perspire was what this occupant of a secluded villa did, tucked away from prying eyes, only disturbed by the sweet lull of the ocean.  
  
A wisp of air gently removed the soft form of curls that was matted to the front of her face, allowing Elizabeth Bristow a moment of physical comfort, although her mind was far from being at ease. A trickle of perspiration minded its way down from the mass of curls at the back of her head, making a path down a pair of toned shoulders, along the spine, and pooling at the hollow of her lower back. Its journey was not unlike the one endured by its resident – it had reached its destination, but would never quite disappear from body or mind.  
  
'Three years…' she murmured to no one in particular – maybe finding solace in the spirit of the wind.  
  
Elizabeth Bristow had been free for some time now. Over seven months, in fact. Free to go where she pleased; free from all the lies; free to be a part of the lives of those who mattered to her.  
  
Except one person.  
  
The one person who carried her through two-and-a-half years of torture, fabrication, deception, horror and most disgustingly, duplicity.  
  
For most of her young existence, Elizabeth Bristow led a double life. Both college coed and international spy. For the first time this evening she cracked a smile, amazed at the absurdity of it all. But it really wasn't highly amusing to Elizabeth – no, quite the contrary.  
  
Months later she still paused whenever she crossed the street, aware of a peculiar vehicles or men hovering in a local shop. The shrill of the telephone would rouse the adrenaline anticipation in the pit of her stomach. She couldn't remember the last time she had physical contact with anyone – whether it be for comfort, confusion or control. Sleeping for more than a few hours at a time was abnormal. And pizza – no, she could not eat pizza again when it brought tears to her eyes and her heart to her throat.  
  
The last time she saw him was at the end of her final mission. She saw relief, in addition to uncertainty pooled in the depth of his dark orbs. He took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.  
  
'They're taking you to a safe house with your father. Lie low.'  
  
She stared directly into his eyes, wanting to say, to do, so much more. But the moment was gone. As she walked to the sedan that would lead her to being her new life, she looked over her shoulder one last time to see him standing at the door.  
  
'I will come to you!'  
  
An unspoken but resounding promise that for Elizabeth, opened the flood gates of years of pent-up emotions no agent could reveal. As she sobbed into his arms, her father provided the comfort that only a paternal man could give to his only child. If she could have seen through the blurriness of her own tears, she may have noticed the lone tear that travelled down the cheek of her handler, resting on his chin, as two hearts simultaneously shattered into a thousand pieces. 


	2. Barrel of a Gun

Do you mean this horny creep  
  
Set upon weary feet  
  
Who looks in need of sleep  
  
That doesn't come  
  
This twisted, tortured mess  
  
This bed of sinfulness  
  
Who's longing for some rest  
  
And feeling numb  
  
What do you expect of me  
  
What is it you want?  
  
Whatever you've planned for me  
  
I'm not the one  
  
A vicious appetite  
  
Visits me each night  
  
And won't be satisfied  
  
Won't be denied  
  
An unbearable pain  
  
A beating in my brain  
  
That leaves the mark of cain  
  
Right here inside  
  
What am I supposed to do?  
  
When everything that I've done  
  
Is leading me to conclude  
  
I'm not the one  
  
Whatever I've done  
  
I've been staring down the Barrel of a Gun  
  
Is there something you need from me?  
  
Are you having your fun?  
  
I never agreed to be  
  
Your Holy One  
  
  
  
Barrel of a Gun – Depeche Mode 1997  
  
  
  
Taipei, Taiwan – September 2001  
  
'Damn!' Elizabeth muttered.  
  
'Liz, what's up?' crackled the voice of her partner, Richard Fitzwilliam into her ear piece.  
  
'The lock pick on my watch is of no help. The codes have passed through, though.'  
  
Liz couldn't seem to budge the final, and most simple, knob to open the safe. Her watch lit up. She was running out of time.  
  
Frustrated with the obstinate lock and her latest disguise (consisting of a skin-tight red ball gown, backless and split up the thigh, punk rock red wing and spiked stilettos), Liz started to fret, which was abnormal for her on the job. She needed out now! With one last click, at last the safe finally opened .  Liz grabbed its contents and attaching it to the lace garter beneath her dress.  
  
Unfortunately for Liz , that wasn't the only clicking sound she heard, as she felt the cold, hard steel of a loaded gun applied to the back of her neck.  
  
'Don't move!' a man uttered in Chinese.  
  
's***!'  
  
'Liz, stay cool, I'll get you out!' Fitz assured, but with Liz, he was sure she would sort herself out.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Liz had attended a party at the Chinese Ambassador's residence earlier, along with Fitz, who had hid in the shadows serving champagne, his eagle eyes missing nothing.  
  
Of course a white woman, skin like milk, hair as red as the dragon, attracted many glances from the assembled group. Some admiring, some suspicious.  
  
This was Liz's job – to be both alluring and vulnerable. Few suspected behind the façade of glamour and seductiveness was one of the world's best spies. She was almost too beautiful to be a spy – the skin, the curls, the pouty plum lips. Most arresting were eyes the colour of fresh grass on a summer's day – so luminous they would render a person blind, yet revealing a much softer side to a very determined woman. You could trust Elizabeth Bristow. Sweet, charming and unassuming. A mistake that many adversaries made when they met her eyes.  
  
'Champagne, madam?'  
  
Those said orbs reacted in recognition to the presence before her.  
  
'Thank you,' she grabbed a glass and with a curt nod he was gone again, and her mission began.  
  
Liz and Fitz were in Taipei to steal a computer disk from the Ambassador's executive office at the top floor of the building. SD-6 had requested the theft as it was thought the Ambassador was dealing with more than political matters between the mainland and this small island. They wanted a list of all his arms dealers and any other rogue outfits the Ambassador fraternized with.  
  
Liz just needed the signal. The Ambassador had a weakness for young, unspoilt Asian beauty and had retired to his den to indulge.  
  
Putting her glass down, Liz purposely made her way out of the reception to the upper floors. Used to the high heels, her long legs moved with hastened strides to meet their destination. That was until she had a sudden meeting with one of the guards.  
  
'You Miss, you not supposed to be here!' he sputtered in broken English.  
  
Liz replied in perfect Chinese.  
  
'I was looking for a ladies room, Sir?'  
  
His response gave her just the right amount of time to apply her forearm to his nose, and with a quick turn of her upward heels he was rendered incapacitated by a concussion, and lay in heap on the floor.  
  
'Hmmm, maybe stilettos have more uses other than being Dr. Scholl groupies?!' she mused to herself. Liz still wanted to have a chat with Sharla, the SD-6 wardrobe guru, when she returned about what she deemed 'happy hooker spywear'.  
  
Placing her opponent in what appeared to be a small office, she continued in her task, knowing that sooner or later his friends would be around the corner.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Hands above her head, she turned to face one of the numerous protectors of the Ambassador's residence.  
  
'Move!' It was an order, not a question.  
  
They were quickly joined by four other guards who jabbered in Chinese at a frantic pace. Liz was able to grab enough of the conversation – they were to take her downstairs to the Ambassador.  
  
Realizing she stood little chance of fending off five hands with her hands now tied in rope, she made a silent prayer and hoped Fitz wasn't far away.  
  
Once she had been taken to a grimy room in the basement, both hands and legs tied to a metal chair, the Ambassador arrived. He snapped his fingers and the members of his motley crew left and shut the door.  
  
'Well Miss, it seems you caused quite the commotion upstairs!' giving Liz the once over from head to toe. 'And dressed to kill as well,' he sneered.  
  
He paused.  
  
'Let's get to the point cause I don't like to play games. Who are you working for?'  
  
Liz laughed. She heard this one way too many times before.  
  
'That's for me to know and for you to never find out, Mr. Chui.' He turned to her with the use of his name.  
  
'Tell me, does the mainland know of your taste in virgin pleasures?' she smirked.  
  
It didn't' take much to set Mr. Chui off. He reached over with the backside of his left hand and with a cracking snap made contact with the ride side of Liz's face. As she spat out the blood, the Ambassador roughly yanked her chair up closer, reaching down between her legs grasping the hidden computer disk.  
  
'OK, we'll do this one more time, who are you working for?'  
  
'Oh, I give up!' Liz relented. 'Get a piece of paper and I will tell you!'  
  
Pen and paper in hand, Mr. Chui awaited her revelation.  
  
'It's spelt REKNAW.'  
  
She waited until the realization dawned on him. Her laughter rang out across the hollow room.  
  
Brow furrowed, fists clenched, Mr. Chui had enough.  
  
'I see you won't talk, as expected.'  
  
With that he pounded on the door and a tray on wheels was brought in. Liz knew what this meant - it was going to be a long night.  
  
'Now Miss, do you prefer the teeth or the nails? Ladies get first choice!' as he removed a metal tray containing an assortment of metal knives and pliers.  
  
'Teeth,' she stated without flinching, her gaze never wavering.  
  
'But please take out the back molars first.'  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Wincing through the searing pain, Liz braced herself for more relentless torture, but it was not to be.  
  
The door flew open and shots rang out. A body slumped to the floor.  
  
In her haze of pain Liz whispered 'Fitz'.  
  
Instead she was greeted by a pair of familiar, but long-lost eyes peering at her in concern.  
  
It was then she knew he had returned to her life.  
  
'Dad?!'  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
'Liz, we must get out here quickly!' as her father grabbed the disk from Mr. Chui's pocket.  
  
She wasn't moving.  
  
Incredulous, she spat 'Dad, what the hell are you doing here?!'  
  
'Liz, we don't have to time to chat now. I'm here to get you out. Come on!'  
  
He had managed to untie her binds thus allowing her to stand up quickly, blood seeping through her mouth. Her father supported her with one arm as she still wasn't over the shock of her capture.  
  
They escaped through a back window, into the path of a waiting van, ready for their escape. It took Liz a few minutes to register that she was in a car. Keys in the ignition, Liz yelled.  
  
'Wait, Where is Fitz?!'  
  
'He's been sent back to the hotel,' he answered in brisk, business-like tone.  
  
Liz was attempting to digest the last five minutes. He knew there'd be questions no doubt. They rolled off her tongue.  
  
'What are you doing here?!'  
  
'How do you know Fitz?!'  
  
'How do you know where to find me?!'  
  
But most importantly:  
  
'Where have you been?!'  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Liz hadn't heard from her father in three years since she had taken the job at SD-6. Of course she never told him about her new career. She never had the chance to.  
  
Liz couldn't understand why they picked her. She was a college student majoring in finance at Pepperdine University. Shy, a tad naïve, she led a fairly mundane existence of studying and spending time with Charlotte, her best friend, and Jane, her closest confidante and sister. Liz had the occasional date, but no serious relationships since she started school.  
  
One day, when the sun shone brightly and the campus basked in a California glow , a man approached. Her nose in a textbook, Liz didn't realize she was being intruded upon till a dark shadow cast upon her face.  
  
'Miss Bristow?'  
  
She looked up. Probably campus administration wanting the rest of her tuition.  
  
'Yes?'  
  
'I was hoping I could speak with you for a few moments. My name is Richard Fitzwilliam. I'm with the CIA.'  
  
And that was the beginning of her new and exciting life. When offered the opportunity to serve her country, she didn't refuse. Maybe Liz had watched too many James Bond films, but the excitement appealed to her. Her new job would allow her to study at the same time and her education would be paid in full. How could she refuse?  
  
There was one problem though: no one could ever know about her real job. No one. Breaking the code would mean death, for herself or those around her. Liz took it to heart, but wouldn't realize the seriousness of her oath until a few years later, faced with it full-on. 


	3. Breaking up the Girl

In a modern culture  
  
My friend you must be careful  
  
They've a million ways to kill you  
  
In this dangerous world  
  
There's an art to growing old  
  
Taking chances  
  
Magic happens  
  
One mistake's all it takes  
  
And your life has come undone  
  
Walk away cause you're breaking up the girl  
  
It's a drag  
  
I know it's hard  
  
But you're tearing her apart  
  
Walk away cause you're breaking up the girl  
  
I am afraid that there's much to be afraid of  
  
Here today and gone tomorrow  
  
Don't end up in the gutter  
  
Just like the one before  
  
You're just the same  
  
Such a loser  
  
You've go to let her go because you're breaking up  
  
You're breaking up the girl  
  
  
  
Breaking up the Girl – Garbage, 2001  
  
  
  
Silence hung over the car. The questions stopped. Even with the air conditioning on full blast, the stickiness and aroma of Taipei permeated the interior of the car.  
  
Jack Bristow, brows furrowed, keep kept his eyes forward, not willing to meet the gaze of a thousand questions, avoided the various bicycles, mopeds and vehicles that stood in his way.  
  
Liz would have answers. Just not right now. Even with the absence of her father, she knew better than to push him. Besides, SD-6 was listening and she knew his business had nothing to do with them. And boy, did her mouth hurt.  
  
They arrived at the hotel in quick time, Jack throwing his keys to the valet. Liz, still in a stupor, struggled to keep up with his pace and as he raced through the lobby and into the elevator.  
  
There, their eyes met and Liz saw something she didn't like. Something was very wrong.  
  
Ushered into a third floor room, Liz could no longer wait. Patience was no virtue. But it was her father who spoke first.  
  
"We're safe to speak freely here. When SD-6 acquired most of their properties I made sure at least one of the rooms would be free of bugs.' Liz had forgotten how much of her life was tied to SD-6, always a part of her very existence. 'Fitz is on another floor. I'm sure he will be checking on you shortly so we should talk.'  
  
Jack threw his jacket on the bed and continued to pace back and forth, stalking like a mad animal.  
  
Liz glared at her father, thinking she was the daughter of a madman.  
  
'Damn right we should talk! What the HELL is going on?' Liz winced at the aggressive use of her jaw.  
  
'Liz, you do not work for SD-6.' Jack Bristow was never one to mince his words.  
  
She snorted. 'Unbelievable!' He's lost his mind.  
  
'Please explain to me, Daddy, how you know this? How do you know of my work, my life, yet are not a part of it?!'  
  
Jack sat on the bed next to his daughter.  
  
'Liz, I work for SD-6. I work in the London office. I also work for the CIA.' His gaze never left her porcelain face.  
  
Her head snapped back and forth.  
  
'No, NO! This is all some big cruel joke. This is fucking crazy! Wait a second, you said you worked for the CIA? SD-6 is CIA!'  
  
She saw the truth in his eyes. In her entire life, Jack Bristow had never lied to his daughters. Disappointed them yes, but never any deceit.  
  
'Oh God. Oh Christ. SD-6 – what is SD-6? I'm working for the enemy, aren't I, Dad?!  
  
'Liz, SD-6 is a rogue operation run by terrorists and crime syndicates around the world. They want to, and can, easily rule the world. They are working against the CIA and against the general good of mankind. I'm sorry.'  
  
Liz's shoulders hunched over, hands covering her face, body shaking like a wounded creature. Stunned. Jack resisted the urge to bring him her into his embrace. He hadn't seen her this vulnerable since she cut her knee open when she was nine years old.  
  
'Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you prevent me from joining?!' she stated in a small voice. 'WHY!' her head screamed.  
  
Jack swallowed knowing that the battle was just commencing.  
  
'Over four years ago, Wickham expressed interest in having you join SD-6. He saw the strength and potential in you I so wanted to ignore. I remember him saying 'She has your gifts, Jack.' I was furious. My daughter was not going to join this life! He was adamant. I didn't want you hurt and hollow, Liz. God knows this life we live is that. We fought. And then he had me transferred. He was afraid I would warn you and I could not bear to see you brought into this!' he gestured with his hands across the room.  
  
Wickham. The man who had been a surrogate father to her. The man who always supported her and looked out for her best interests. The man was a mass murderer and the embodiment of evil. Her body shook again, but Liz did not cry. She was too shell-shocked.  
  
'He would have killed you?' It was more a truth than a question.  
  
'Yes, I believe Wickham always had plans for you to become part of SD-6. He was always fascinated by you, Liz. He adores you. I should have known he wanted you to be his pawn.'  
  
Liz's mind flashed with the birthday parties, trips to the sea and stories on Wickham's lap. He was Dad's best friend. He was Dad's worst enemy.  
  
'When I left for London I couldn't bear to say goodbye. It would be too painful. I realize now the extent of my mistake when I arrived in London, but it was too late. I approached the CIA who confirmed my suspicions and asked me to become a double agent. Believe me Liz, I was just as floored as you were. But with you now working for the enemy I had to do something. To protect both of us.'  
  
Jack was a handsome man, short, greying hair, tall and distinguished. But he held a hard edge from a life of misery.  
  
'But you couldn't send a message? A card, a postcard, a phone call?! Do you realize how you broke Jane's spirit? How could you do this to her?!  
  
Suddenly, Liz saw a flash in her father's eye and he shuddered. Pain. Undaunting pain.  
  
'Dad, what is it? There's more, right?!'  
  
Jack Bristow braced himself for the fury of feelings that was about to explode.  
  
'Liz,' he whispered, eyes watering.  
  
'It's your sister. She's dead.'  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The day Jack Bristow ran out of his daughter's lives was the worst day in his memory. Next to the loss of his wife and the girl's mother. Jane had always trusted him, but Lizzy was stung by her mother's death and the fact that her father continued to pull away from her. With his financial job he was never at home and missed the many trials and tribulations of his two children. He doubted she would ever forgive him.  
  
He remembers the call to Wickham's office as if it were yesterday.  
  
'Jack, come in.' He motioned to the chair in front of his desk.  
  
Wickham was being too jovial for Jack's liking.  
  
'What is it, George?' questioned the sharp shooter.  
  
Wickham paused for emphasis. Slow and calculated.  
  
'I've been thinking, Jack. Does Liz have any career plans?'  
  
Oh no, you are not doing this George.  
  
'You know she is planning on attending Pepperdine as a finance major.'  
  
'Yes.' Wickham's temples furrowed into a scowl. To anyone from the outside, Wickham appeared to be a very illustrious and successful businessman. Snowy hair, perceptive eyes and a prominent nose gave him an air of importance. And intimidation.  
  
'Your daughter would be an asset to SD-6, you know.' There. He said it.  
  
'George, I don't want my daughter to be a part of this. You must know that.'  
  
Wickham stood from his chair and began pacing, hand applied to his forehead in agitation. He stared back at Jack.  
  
'She has your gifts, Jack. She's of above average intelligence, with great perception and physically fit. It wouldn't take long to train her.'  
  
Jack joined Wickham in an upward position, challenging him.  
  
'No George. And you will respect my wishes.'  
  
Wickham glanced at Jack with a slight but sadistic smile on his face.  
  
'I'm afraid Jack there is no decision for you in the matter. I am doing what is best for our country. And Liz is what's best for this country. I have already had Richard Fitzwilliam approach her. She has expressed interest.'  
  
The volcano erupted.  
  
'Damn you!' Jack slammed his fist on the desk. 'I am going to see my daughter and I will convince her otherwise!'  
  
Wickham threw a folder on the table.  
  
'Jack, you leave for London this evening. There is a new position for you at our office there. I expect you to pack and be on the flight. And I also expect that you will leave Liz to fulfill her new position without interruption.'  
  
Jack Bristow knew he was dealing with a callous and devious man. He was always suspicious and jealous of the attention Wickham bestowed on Liz. He coveted her like his own daughter, a child he never had and somehow felt that Jack failed in his duties as a father. Jack could have stopped this. But he knew if he didn't get on that plane Wickham would use that as an excuse to permanently rub him out of her life.  
  
With a heavy heart and broken soul, Jack boarded his flight to London.  
  
When he arrived in London he contacted the CIA, who revealed the ugly truth of SD-6. He suspected as much after his conversation with Wickham. A organization that murdered thousands of innocent individuals and profited from their goods.  
  
So he waited till her could return to his daughter's lives and hopefully be accepted again. His flight from the U.S. was never expected to be permanent. However, never in his wildest dreams did Jack think his other daughter too would suffer the wrath of SD-6.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Numb. To be floating freely with no sense of direction or purpose. To feel so much yet to feel so little.  
  
Her right hand was entwined with another's. Fitz. Darling Fitz. Her beloved partner and friend. The only man she trusted utterly and completely. Wickham was her boss – Fitz was her saviour, in so many ways. Now he was trying to save her again.  
  
Her father sat across from her in the aisle. Head lowered, hand clamped around a glass of whiskey, brows furrowed. A statue of silent grief.  
  
They had given her a sedative at the hotel. First rage than resignation. She didn't need to know how she died. Liz knew. And it was all her fault.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
'Say Lizzy,' Jane popped her head around the door to the kitchen.  
  
'Why don't we get some movies and some wine for tonight? Do you feel like staying in?'  
  
Of course Lizzy felt like staying in. She'd just been sent to Italy to steal some documents from an arts dealer. Mission accomplished and now did she ever need a drink!  
  
'Sounds great hon! I'll finish up dinner and you can grab the supplies, kay?!'  
  
Jane graced her sister with an ethereal smile and was out the door in seconds.  
  
Jane. There wasn't a more beautiful person in the world to Liz. Sure she had the looks of an angel – halo of blonde hair to her waist, sky blue eyes and the most saccharine smile to grace the earth, but when Liz meant beautiful, she meant a gal with a heart of gold and goodness that alleviated much of the guilt Liz had. Guilt that plagued Liz and seeped into the pore of her whole being. Jane thought she worked for an international bank. Jane thought she worked way too hard. Often Jane and Liz would be having an honest girl chat, usually Jane complaining about her frequent dates (who seemed to practically line up at the door), when her pager would go off. When the slight beep sounded, Jane's face would fall. She knew Liz had to rush off to some corner of the world to fix other people's problems. Occasionally, she would beg for Liz to leave the company. It was as if she sensed the inner turmoil Liz felt whenever she stepped out the door.  
  
Within a half hour, Jane had returned, with enough wine to satisfy the Greek Gods and Bridget Jones' Diary in tow.  
  
'Nice choice there, Sista!'  
  
Jane reached up to high-fived her roommate.  
  
Two-and-a-half bottles later and with one great kissing scene to go, Jane noticed her sister's agitation increased.  
  
Liz felt an insurmountable sadness. Watching Bridget get sloshed with her friends, meet the man of her dreams and live happily ever after reminded her of what she could never truly have – the honesty of a real life. Without deceit. Without a happy home and children. Without lying to her own flesh and blood about the pay cheque she brings brought home every month.  
  
The tears came. And flowed.  
  
'Aw Liz honey, what's up? There's been something nagging you. Penny for your thoughts!'  
  
Jane gathered her in a sisterly embrace. Liz smiled briefly, but was then racked with sobs.  
  
'I can't Jane. I really can't. Working is dragging me down and I'm stuck with it. I can't quit either, it pays my way through school and it fits until into my schedule.'  
  
'Shhhhh,' Jane cradled Liz's head with her arms.  
  
'Liz, I think you are about to go crazy. You need your sanity back. You're not happy. You have to leave your job. No career is worth the absolute bullshit they put you through!'  
  
Once again Liz smirked at her sister's curse. Jane never swore unless she was very upset.  
  
'I know, but I can't!' Liz moaned.  
  
'What? Are they gonna put a hit out on you if you leave work? Sheesh.'  
  
The sarcasm was a little too close to home for Liz and she twisted in Jane's arms.  
  
She thought it over. They couldn't possibly hear with running water.  
  
And then she made the decision that would haunt her for the rest of her life. A momentary lapse of judgement, maybe because of the wine, maybe because she was sick of the whole game. Dragging her sister by the hand, a finger to her lips, she dragged her sister to the bathroom, putting the shower on full blast and told Jane what Elizabeth Bristow really did for a living.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
At the airport, Fitz guided Liz towards the cabs, never letting go of her hand. Liz looked like a lamb headed for the slaughter. Jack Bristow followed not far behind. She turned to him.  
  
'I want to see her.' It was an order.  
  
Fitz voiced his concern.  
  
'Liz, I am going to take you home and put you to sleep. You're in bad shape right now and we need to get someone to look at your teeth!' She stood still.  
  
'No Fitz. I need to see her.'  
  
The battle was lost before it began and Fitz knew it.  
  
'Just go home to Georgie and the kids okay? I need to be by myself.'  
  
Fitz wasn't entirely convinced but he knew he couldn't sway her.  
  
'Alright dear. But I am going to pop by tomorrow, okay?'  
  
She nodded as he kissed her on the cheek and pulled her into a bear hug.  
  
'I'm so sorry, Liz.'  
  
With a nod at her father, Fitz got into the cab and sped off.  
  
With a stony, don't mess with me glare at her father, Jack opened the door of a cab and gave the directions to the morgue.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
She was so white. So lifeless. Even her blond hair had lost its sheen, fanned around her head in a halo. Her mouth positioned into a slight smile. It was unreal. It wasn't Jane. A glint on her right hand caught her eye as she glanced down at the friendship ring, it's duplicate on her own finger.  
  
Feeling bile rising in her throat she ran across the room, thrusting the swishing doors open and purging her grief into a waste basket. She felt a hand on her back.  
  
'She isn't gone Dad. That isn't Jane!'  
  
For once, Jack was at a loss for words. Liz took his silence as indifference.  
  
'Don't you feeling ANYTHING?'  
  
She knew he did. He was a broken man.  
  
'She was my daughter too. I loved her with all my heart.'  
  
Feeling the cold, stark reality of the morgue, Liz slumped to the floor and broke down. She's gone. My sister is gone.  
  
Arms propelled her upwards into a foreign embrace.  
  
Minutes passed by and sobs subsided. Desolation was replaced by rage.  
  
'Wickham' A single name.  
  
Jack knew what she was alluding to.  
  
'He ordered this, didn't he?'  
  
He nodded in resignation.  
  
'Liz, he called and told me beforehand.'  
  
This was enough to make Liz take two steps backwards, in disgusted shock.  
  
'I had booked you and Jane on a flight to Thailand. I was going to get you both away. I begged for him to be merciful. I called your apartment. There was no answer. They got to her before I did.'  
  
'I am going to kill Wickham.'  
  
Jack grabbed onto her shoulders.  
  
'Liz, LIZ!' He shook her. 'You are not going to do anything stupid! You hear me! You are on thin ice here. You know the protocol. Wickham could order your death sentence as well! I don't think he will kill you but he will certainly question your loyalty. Do not screw with your life!'  
  
Her life was already screwed. Liz knew what she had to do.  
  
'Who is your CIA contact?' He stopped. His eyes could have cut glass.  
  
'No, no, you're not doing this Liz!' Jack shook his head numerous times.  
  
'Who is your CIA contact?'  
  
'Liz do you realize how dangerous it is to be a double agent? Do you? You can't do this!' his face reddened with anger.  
  
'Dad, I, we, work for an evil bastard. A 'man' who had my sister, and YOUR daughter murdered in cold blood. Come on, remember you're the one who gave life to me! You know me a bit better than that. You think I am going to sit on my ass and not make the people who did this pay with their lives? They will.'  
  
The only sound was the humming of fluorescent lights. And a huge sigh from Jack Bristow.  
  
'Catherine DeBourgh. Her name is Catherine DeBourgh.'  
  
Before he'd even had a chance to regret those words, she was gone.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Twelve hours had past. Liz had no destination in mind, that was until the morning. She could not return to the apartment. Not to the memories, the silence, the scene of the crime. She ended up at the ocean, knees curled under her, staring at the sky wondering at the cruel life she lived. Waves crashed into the sand, adding to her sense of violence. Tears finally fell and Liz thought she could fill the ocean with them. She watched the earnest sun rise and its spiteful rays land on her face, mocking her with its glory. The beginning of life without Jane.  
  
She hadn't done anything with her hair. Fitz forced her to change out of her dress before they bordered boarded the flight. Not like she cared. Her mouth with raw and thirsty. The dentist could wait. Liz had to pay a few people a visit.  
  
Within the half hour she was in front of the SD-6 office, otherwise known as Credit Pemberley, a worldwide and respected financial institution. That is, to the outside world. The sharp edges of dark glass added to her sense of foreboding. She marched on, up the elevators and into her spacious office.  
  
Her colleagues stopped and stared. Liz didn't give a fuck. She wasn't here to see them and gather sympathy. Fitz stood up from his desk and approached her, reaching out to her to grab hold of her arm. He sensed her purpose but Liz couldn't make eye contact. She didn't need pity.  
  
'Not now, Fitz!' she hissed.  
  
Down the long corridor leading to Wickham's office she was corned by Will Collins, SD-6's gadget guru, sweet and bumbling oaf.  
  
'Liz, I just want to…..' he stammered, but like his other co-workers, he was left in the dust.  
  
With the full force of her arms, Wickham's glass doors landed with a bang on the other side of the wall. In the midst of some conspiratory phone call, Wickham startled, his eyes meeting those of a fury-filled woman.  
  
'I will get back to you, Jacques.' He placed the phone down.  
  
'You killed her. You took my sister away from me!!' The anger threatening to spill over that she shook like a leaf rattled by a strong wind.  
  
'Liz. You know protocol. When you joined SD-6….'  
  
'Fuck god damn protocol!!!!!!!! My sister is dead. The same little girl you took on pony rides as a child. The same girl you pushed on the swings. How, Wickham, HOW!!! Even if she was a security risk you can't think that she would have caused us any trouble. It's Jane for god's sake!'  
  
No emotion. No reaction. Just a hint of sadness in his eyes.  
  
'Liz, I couldn't take that risk. I'm very sorry. I wanted to do all that I could to avoid this, but you put her life in danger when you told her about SD-6. You made the oath. You broke it and now you must face the consequences. You killed her, Liz.'  
  
So cold. A thousand pins pierced every part of her. Her lungs were gasping for air. The room got very small. There was no point in reasoning with a mad man.  
  
'I will never work for you again. Never.' And with that she fled SD-6.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
'So Mikey, I took her out to this nice little French bistro in Santa Monica. She was making goo-goo eyes at me all night. I was in the bag. Lubricated her up a bit with some wine and then……'  
  
'OK Bingley, I think I heard enough okay?' Michael Darcy rolled his eyes.  
  
They were in Darcy's small and immensely cluttered office in the L.A. CIA headquarters. As per usual, Charles Bingley, who happened to be Darcy's partner, was revelling in yet another night of sex and sin. Bingley's feet were resting on the side of Darcy's desk and he was tossing his official Dodger's baseball into the air.  
  
The agents were a striking contrast. Bingley with tight blond curls, a stodgy build and a flirtatious reputation to uphold. On the other hand was dark and dramatic Darcy, with short black hair, slightly muscular and dark eyes that had scared the shit out of one too many criminals.  
  
'Seriously, Bingley, haven't you had most of the women in LA? What's your secret? I'm surprised you haven't been suspended here yet. You're the king of inner-office shags. BTW, touch my secretary and you die!'  
  
Bingley grinned like the Cheshire cat. 'The problem with you, Agent Darcy, is you don't get out enough. Sure you have the live-home gal but when's the last time you've been out for a good bender? You're becoming a boring old fart!'  
  
'Did you ever think Bing that I like my life the way it is? I do.'  
  
Bingley guffawed. 'Whatever, Darce. Whatever. I just miss the old player from Langley. Beers tonight?'  
  
Before Darcy had a chance to answer his secretary buzzed.  
  
'Agent Darcy. We have a walk-in for DeBourgh. She's currently in a meeting so I think you'll want to take this.'  
  
Both agents eyebrows shot up.  
  
'Send him in, Louisa.'  
  
'Ah, Sir, it's a she.'  
  
If it was more possible, Bingley's eyebrow and curiosity soared even further.  
  
Darcy thought it had to be some joke. In walked a girl, fire-engine hair, jeans and tight black sweater and blood smeared down the side of her mouth. A punk band reject. Someone must have really smacked her in the mouth. However he was arrested by the greenest eyes he'd ever seen that had him the second he latched on.  
  
Uncomfortable silence. Bingley cleared his throat, wondering what the hell came over his partner.  
  
'Have a seat, Miss'  
  
'It's Bristow, Elizabeth Bristow.' She wasn't in the mood for small talk.  
  
'Well Miss Bristow, how can we help you?' Bingley's eyes were as big as saucers.  
  
'I'm here to help you take down SD-6.'  
  
Darcy just stared. No fucking way. Bingley, on the other hand, reacted with a low whistle.  
  
'Bingley, do you mind?!' Darcy scolded.  
  
With that Bingley removed himself from the office, not before throwing a 'What the hell and we need to talk about this later' glance at his friend.  
  
'I'm sorry Miss Bristow. Where were we?'  
  
'I said I'm here to destroy SD-6. You need my help.' Boy, did this bitch mean business.  
  
'And just how can you assist us? How do you know about SD-6? How do I know you are some crazy person off the street?'  
  
'And your name is…….' If looks could kill, Liz's would do the job.  
  
'Agent Michael Darcy'  
  
'Look, Agent Darcy, let's cut the crap. I'm here to solve problems for the CIA. Now I am dealing with a young pup agent who appears to not know what he's doing!'  
  
'And am I supposed to believe that Raggedy Ann joined the spy service?'  
  
Oh boy, we've certainly started off on the wrong foot.  
  
That's when Darcy noticed her eyes were pools of despair. Bottomless and empty. The sympathetic side took over. It was so crazy she had to be real.  
  
'Look, Miss Bristow, how bout I take you to our conference room and you can tell me what you know. You have me intrigued.'  
  
'Agent Darcy, you won't regret this.' His instinct took over and something told him that Bristow would change things.  
  
And with that Liz spent the next four hours pouring her life out to Agent Darcy, who went from sceptical to shocked and then saddened.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The funeral was held three days later. After her visit to the CIA, she moved in with her friend Charlotte, unable to contemplate an empty apartment without Jane. It wasn't like Charlotte was going to let Liz out of her sight. Fitz made daily visits, with home baked cookies from Georgie and the kids and with the hope of seeing some spark in Liz's eyes again. Jack also visited, but Liz wasn't quite ready to forgive her father for herhis sudden and shocking reappearance in her life. He told her that Wickham was willing to give her as much time as possible off. He would not demand her return to work, but Liz knew that at some point she would have to face SD-6 again. This time with the intent of destroying them.  
  
The day Jane was buried was quiet and sunny. Fitz and Charlotte flanked both sides of Liz, her father across with his head lowered, stoically mourning. Liz placed a yellow rose on top the casket, whispering, 'My sweet Janey. I love you. I'm so sorry. I failed you.'  
  
As she was led back to the car, she noticed a tinted black sedan in the distance, keeping an eye on the proceedings. Her spy instincts taking over, her heart skipped for a brief moment. But realization dawned and for a fleeting moment, she smiled. 


End file.
